The Ballynahattins
by GodsOfPlot
Summary: An epic AU HP saga which follows the lives of several magical Irish families at the dawn of the new millennium. Voldemort is gone, but how long will peace last? There's adventure, romance, tragedy, war, politics, murders, and more! Super original & fun.
1. Ivy Arrives at Ballynahattin

**Ivy Ballantine arrives at Ballynahattin – September 1****st,**** 2001. **

The golden summer sun that washed Ireland in a pleasant warmth had started to set by the time Ivy Ballantine, her round almost-twelve years old cheeks wind chapped from too much time outside, arrived at Ballynahattin. The proper name for the school was _Ballynahattin Academy for the Magical Youth of the Republic of Ireland, Greater Europe, and Beyond_, but no one called it that. The locals called it "the Academy" and the students called it "Bally" or "Ballynahattin" at best.

Those who attended the school were Ballynahattins. Ivy was the second generation of Ballantines to ever attend the school, even though it was estimated that the academy, hidden in a stone circle similar to that of England's Stonehenge, was at least five hundred years older than Hogwarts, and the Ballantine family had arguably the purest and oldest Irish blood in existence.

Not that anyone cared about her family history, when she was the fifth child of a miserably poor, socially scorned fisherman who somehow managed to marry the beloved, popular, beautiful Viveca Graham and impregnate her eight times. Ivy could climb to the top of the observatory, take off all her clothes, declare she was the queen of France, and pull galleons out of her arse for charitable contributions to the poor, but that still wouldn't make her a better target of scorn for the conventional pureblood Irish students. No matter how crazy and mean, or nice and quiet, or smart and talented, or pure and Irish she was, she was still a Ballantine at heart. An Irish speaking, hand-me-down wearing, reeking-of-fish Ballantine.

It would take Ivy approximately fifteen minutes before she realized that what her older siblings had told her about their family was true. They were _different_. Deeply, deeply _different_.

First a tall fifth year Crionna, bearing the blue right hand of the claddagh ring on her navy robes, stepped on the hem of Ivy's hand-me-down dress and ripped a three inch hole in the overworn fabric.

"Oh, I'm sorry, all the firsts are so short I can hardly see them," said the girl in a distracted Dubliner accent, pushing her trunk to the side and kneeling down to correct the tear with her wand. She paused as she knelt, examining the fabric in her hand.

"I don't care. I don't like this dress," replied Ivy.

"It looks familiar. Hey, are you Derry and Bernie's sister?"

She nodded with enthusiasm.

"Oh." The girl's tone changed, and she waved her wand at the fabric. "That explains it."

"What? Explains what?" she demanded. An instinctual part of her didn't like the sudden change that came over the older student.

"Well, it explains the way you look." She laughed and patted her on the already tousled head, a gesture Ivy did not appreciate. Then the tall older girl paused, exclaimed "Oh!" and looked back at Ivy. "Of course! You're the one that nearly drowned Felicity's beau! Isn't that right, you stole Fee's wand and cast the paralyzing jinx on Sheehy as he was taking a swim?"

Ivy's demeanor changed and she stood taller. "Yeah, that was me! My granda said it was bloody good magic, that he hadn't seen that sort of arse whipping from a spot o' trouble like me since he was a lad, and that was really long time ago because he's old compared to me so that means that I'm the best he's seen in a really long time and he thinks that I really take after him, that I'm going to be a hell o' a Garda after I've been through school, he's predicting that I get into Misneach like Felicity and Derry and Bernie- "

She would have continued blathering on like this, but the older girl's friends had arrived and they were laughing at her.

"Goodness, I think her tongue's been jinxed," said the Crionna. "Was that Irish or English? Her accent is so thick I can hardly tell. Where are you parents? Shouldn't they be watching you? Or are they trying to find the rest of their herd?"

"They had to apologize to one of Jessie's professors because she had plans to raise a jarvey farm in the spare Crionna bedroom."

"Oh. Oh!" They burst into peals of laughter again. "Of course. Well, send my sympathies to Miss Graham." And with another sympathetic pat the girls left her.

A few moments later Ivy's parents retrieved her from the main entrance, where groups of students and their families were appearing by portkey.

Her father, simply referred to as "da," was tall even for the Irish, fair colored and windswept, with sandy hair and pale blue eyes. His face was ruddy from too much time out at sea. He was noticeable for his long striding walk as he approached his daughter and the way he stood like a stern rock amidst the sea of students, arms crossed in front of him. There was his smile too, of course, if he ever deigned to show it; the devastating Ballantine smile that transformed his average face into that of a more handsome, genteel man. Today there was no trace of a smile. His littlest, most beloved daughter was leaving home for school.

Her mother, Ma, fluttered around her husband and children with a quick smile and hummingbird movements, touching a child's head here, straightening a sleeve there, standing up on tip-toe to count them all up. She was quick and graceful, exuding a charm that was at its best in crowds. In other circumstances she might have seemed nervous, liked a jittery horse with the way she tossed her auburn hair out of her face, but here she was delightfully engaged.

"Ivy gra, you haven't injured yourself or anyone else while we've been gone, have you?" asked ma in a strained tone of voice. "No broken bones? Jarveys hidden in the trunk? Inappropriate use of magic and or undergarments? Anything?"

"She's been good," said da. "I promised her a good beating if she moved from this spot."

"Don't be a heathen Conn." Ma laughed and swatted Ivy's strawberry blonde head—she ducked—and da frowned at his wife. They exchanged a terse look. Silent words were spoken, before ma laughed again and looked away. "Where did our eldest son go?"

"He's probably snogging the face off his newest bird," piped up nine year old Harry, who was as excitable as ma but more prone to da's serious view of the world. "She probably has diseases too."

"Harold Carroll," was all da said, his tone threatening, but it was enough to silence the boy.

As it happened, Dermot Aaron, or as his baby sister fondly referred to him, "DerryAar," had just found out he would be Quidditch captain _and_ Aingingein captain _and_ dueling club captain for Misneach that year. The honors were bestowed upon him by his fellow athletes, who had voted on the choices in secret a few hours earlier. The previous year he foolishly commented that if he was ever eejit enough to captain all the athletic organizations at once, like his famous grandfather (everybody knew about Cursin' Kenny) had, he would kiss Bally's ancient Headmaster full on the lips as penitence for his title-grabbing idiocy.

Derry approached his family with a sheepish expression on his face and ran a hand through his dark curly hair.

"Ah. Ma. Ye haven't seen the Headmaster anywhere, have you?"

Behind him was the entirety of Misneach house.

"…No…" said ma. Apprehension and curiosity lit up her dark eyes. The sight of all those ruby red claddagh crowns perched jauntily on teenage heads was enough to scare any mother.

"He's coming out of _Breá_ _Bord_ now!" cried a voice in the back, and the mass of red pushed Derry past his family and into the dining hall. The Ballantines followed after. Ivy moved to go with her family—her brother! Captain to everything!—but a hand reached out and grabbed her by the wrist. The hand was wearing a green glove.

Within the next few minutes Ivy would truly discover the meaning to her heritage.

"Look! Another one! They're sprouting out of the ground faster than you can say 'Screw my dirty Graham arse!'"

The voice laughed and gave her wrist a squeeze. As she looked up she saw that she was being confronted by a Seirbhe girl, probably in her seventh year. The girl had a full set of lips that were painted in grass green swirls that were charmed to move around. It looked like she had snakes coming out of her mouth.

"That's your older brother, isn't it? Derry Ballantine?"

"Yeah, now let go of me!" She was indignant…she didn't quite understand what the girl had said, but she knew it was bad. She tried to yank her arm away but the girl's grip was strong.

"Wait a moment. Could you give your brother a message? Tell him that I'm really pleased for him. Really I am. I want him to know that I congratulate him, and that he should be really proud – you know that while he's attention mongering with the redheaded lemmings his mother is screwing a fish man and making a few more babbies for the clan – "

Ivy kicked the girl and shouted. At the same moment though, there was a roar of noise from the dining hall, and no one saw the kick, or the Seirbhe girl's reactionary slap.

No one saw, that is, except for a blonde haired foreign girl that had just portkeyed into the hall alone.

The young Ballantine began swearing like a sailor as the Seirbhe girl laughed and jeered at her, still holding onto her wrist, making up increasingly creative slurs about the Ballantine brood. The school's attention was still focused on the Headmaster, who had just received a heartfelt kiss from Misneach's charming Captain to Everything, and they didn't notice the drama unfolding in the entrance hall.

Holly Vlammende-Schoen frowned at the scene. Ivy really was putting up an impressive fight, it was just that the older girl was so much larger than her. She couldn't make her arms long enough to scratch at the girl's eyes or kick her properly in the knees.

"Hey!" snapped Holly, "Stop that!"

Ivy's response was "^&%! $%^*~! You &#%^! Throw a %^ shoe at her *^%$! ugly face!"

Without delay, Holly pulled off her shoe. And without thinking about it she frowned at the shoe, it burst into flames, and she threw it neatly at the Seirbhe girl's face.

"Aaaaagh!"

The Seirbhe dropped Ivy's arm and began clawing at her hair. The shoe made contact long enough to catch fire to the paper flowers folded into her hair. In a few moments her hair caught fire too. Ivy looked between the flaming Seirbhe, the shoe-throwing girl, and back at the Seirbhe. "Mother of Maeve, that was bloody brilliant!" she exclaimed.

"PUT IT OUT! PUT IT OUT!" cried the seventh year frantically. People began turning around. They saw the girl and a cry of alarm went up. Ivy ducked just in time to avoid the sprays of water that came from several parental wands at once.

In the ensuing chaos, Holly and Ivy were introduced to each other properly. Holly's parents were arriving later so a professor kept a hold of her shoulders, while Ivy's father had a vice-like grip on his daughter's own shoulder.

"Two minutes. We were away for two minutes!" exclaimed ma.

"I'm Holly Vlammende-Schoen," said Holly politely, extending a hand. Underneath her shoe was a polka dot sock. For some reason that fact would stick with Ivy for the rest of her life.

"I'm Ivy Ballantine," replied Ivy, shaking her hand with an almost masculine grip. "You don't sound like you're Irish. Are you English? No, you don't look English, I think you're from further away. Vlammene-whatsit isn't English anyways, I bet you're Baltic or American or something. Are you a first year? I'm a first year. They haven't sorted me yet but I think I'll get into Misneach. My brother's Captain of Everything. Do you have any siblings that go here?"

"My family comes from Sweden. We invented the wooden shoe and my mother owns a fireworks company."

"My da's a fisherman, ma takes care of my brothers and sisters and I. You really are a foreigner I guess though your accent isn't that bad. I'm starting to think I'm a foreigner too." She laughed. She wasn't used to all these different sorts of people, and the attention, and she certainly wasn't used to flaming shoes. It made her natural chattiness incomprehensible. "I think da's going to take me back home and whip me now, but it was grand meeting you, it really was, and the whole lighting the shoe on fire thing was really bloody genius. You don't happen to have any fireworks do you? Me ma won't let me have any."

"NO fireworks" said da's voice from above. "NO fireworks, NO fire, NOTHING until this is sorted out. Now stop your talking and wait for the headmaster to arrive."

Ivy remained silent for approximately thirty seconds.

"Well what's taking him so long?"

Her father squeezed her shoulders.

"Ivy. Silent. Now."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**NEXT: Life at Ballynahattin Academy**

_I hope you enjoyed! Please R&R. Thanks to Rowling for letting us borrow her world._

_~Carmen_


	2. Who's Who of Irish Wizards

"The tall blonde man standing by the gargoyle."

"Father, that's Uncle Alexander. I _know_ him already."

"I know you do, Cornelius. Give me what I'm asking for."

Nine-year-old Cornelius Borrail sighed. When younger, he'd loved playing this game with his father, but if the truth was to be told now he was tired of it. Every party they went to, he was asked to recite the names and families of all the people in attendance. Cornelius was still mightily proud that he could remember all of them, but he didn't see why he had to keep proving it. They only ever socialized with the same people.

"Alexander Reed II. His wife is Juliana, daughter of Abbán and Junerva Borrail."

"And his children?" asked Nevan Borrail.

"My cousins, Damien and Georgiana."

"Very good," Nevan said, without really sounding like he was pleased. He looked around the room and Cornelius waited patiently, wondering who he'd be asked to identify next.

Nevan pointed.

"The woman standing over the punch bowl, in the green dress."

"Maura Bradigan, daughter of Sean and Imogen Bradigan," Cornelius recited blandly. Nevan raised an eyebrow.

"I'd sound more enthusiastic if I were you. Maura is an extremely powerful woman. You see the distinguished man standing next to her?"

"Yes. Cormac MacFealltoir, advisor to the High Councilor."

"That's right. She and Cormac are quite close."

"Why haven't they married?" Cornelius asks. "Seems like a fair match to me."

"It would be, Cornelius, but there are things about their relationship that you do not understand," Nevan said. "It is an adult concern and you shouldn't worry yourself with it. Now, the family that just…walked in."

Cornelius turned to look, but he knew who it was by the tone of his father's voice. Nevan was always careful to stress to his son that though all pureblood families were important, there were some that certainly deserved more respect than others. This family was one that did _not_, in Nevan's eyes, deserve anything more than aloof politeness.

"It's Vincent Everard and his wife Fiona, sister of Cormac MacFealltoir. He has only one daughter, Caroline," Cornelius said, watching Caroline as he spoke.

She was only ten years old, but she looked much older. Cornelius decided that it was because of the way her mouth was so firmly set in an unimpressed line. Her eyebrows, too, arched in such a way that it looked like she was always frowning. Cornelius decided that she was probably ashamed of her father.

"Um, Father," he said. "What's so wrong with the Everards?"

"Mm. I suppose you're old enough to know now," Nevan said. "They're criminals, the lot of them. Liars and blood traitors. I don't know how Fiona lowered herself to such rabble." Had Cornelius been older, he might have detected a shred of bitterness in his father's tone, a trace of wistfulness in the looks he gave Fiona Everard; but nine-year-olds don't notice such things.

"I think I'd like to marry Caroline when we grow up," Cornelius said. Nevan smiled at him.

"You'd do well to," he said. "She takes after her mother; she'd make a fine wife. I might approach Fiona about it later tonight. The sooner you get the girl away from her father's side, the better."

He followed his son's gaze to the girl and smirked to himself.

"That's enough for now. Why don't you go talk to her?"

"Thank you, Father," Cornelius said immediately, stepping off in Caroline's direction. She was holding her father's hand and looking up at Kennedy Graham like she was listening to the things he was saying. _Poor dear, she's so polite_, Cornelius thought as he reached out and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned her head and fixed her dark brown eyes on him. He smiled what he hoped was a charming grin.

"Good evening, Caroline," he said, bowing a little to her.

"Good evening, Cornelius," she said. She nodded curtly before turning back to the conversation.

"So, I understand you'll be off to Ballynahattin next year," he said, trying to direct her attention back to him. She turned her head lazily.

"That's right, Cornelius. I'll be eleven, and that is the age when one usually heads off to school," she said. There was something in her tone that sounded slightly grating, but Cornelius ignored it. She was probably just annoyed because her father wouldn't let go of her hand.

"So what house do you plan to try for? I'll be placed in Seirbhe, of course, that's obvious. My cousins will see to it. The Reeds—do you know them?" he asked.

"Yes. I believe Georgiana and I had a play date once," Caroline said, glancing in his direction.

"Oh, really?" Cornelius said, smiling. He'd have to ask Georgiana about Caroline; his cousin was quite the expert on the behavior of young ladies.

"Yes. She wrote me a letter the next day telling me, very politely, that she never wanted to see me again," Caroline replied without looking.

"Oh. Well, Georgiana is quite temperamental at times. Uncle Alexander positively spoils her," Cornelius said. Caroline nodded absently. He waited a moment. She didn't speak. "So, what house were you aiming for?"

"I think I like Misneach," she said.

"M-Misneach?" Cornelius repeated, scoffing. "Why on earth would you want to be in Misneach? It's overrun by Ballantines, from what I hear."

Caroline turned and smirked at him, one corner of her mouth raised.

"Exactly," she said.

"Caroline, Kenny just asked you a question," Vince said, turning around. It was then that he noticed Cornelius standing there, and he smiled. He released Caroline's hand and rested his now free hand on her far shoulder.

"Why, hello there, Corny," he said. "I didn't hear you come over. Having a chat with my Caro, are you?"

Cornelius's cheeks were burning. He struggled to maintain his composure before the imbecile, for Caroline's sake. _Corny?!_

"Actually, I was about to ask her if I could get her some punch," he said politely.

"No thank you, Cornelius. I'm fine," Caroline said, smirking triumphantly at him from next to her father's hip. She gave a little laugh and turned away. "I'm sorry, Mr. Graham. What were you saying?"

Vince had the audacity to wink at Cornelius before he too turned away. Cornelius was left to slink back to Nevan's side, his pale cheeks aflame with his embarrassment. Ever impassive, Nevan hardly looked at his son as he returned.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"I _hate_ that man," said Cornelius.

-----


	3. Life at Ballynahattin

**Life At Ballynahattin Academy - Fall of 2001**

_In which Ivy and Holly establish their reputation._

It took the Headmaster ten minutes to walk from the head of the professor's table in _Breá_ _Bord _to the main entrance, where Ivy and Holly stood imprisoned by adults and a ring of curious students.

"The Headmaster's still in shock," whispered one student to another, "Doesn't even realize what happened to him. I know of a few Seirbhe girls that would love to get a good snog from Derry, even if it was a stupid be—" They were elbowed in the ribs as the Headmaster finally passed by. Each of his tiny slippered steps seemed to take a huge effort.

He was an incredibly old wizard who still wore traditional Irish garb, including a grandfather shirt covered by a floor-length vest, printed with a swirling star pattern. Ivy's grandfather remembered him being old even when he was in school, and the Headmaster of Bally still struggled on in Ivy's time, one slow, feeble step at a time.

"Iiiiii've lived through twooo daak Lords…" creaked his voice as students stepped aside to let him through. "But I maaay not suuurvive the westerrrrn faamly."

Da, ma, Jessie, Derry, Bernie, Harry, and Ivy stood together in the middle of the circle with varying degrees of unapologetic annoyance written across their faces. Next to them stood Holly and her parents, who had abandoned business meetings and apparated to the school as soon as they heard what had happened. The Seirbhe girl was also there, wrapped in a towel and steaming about the ears, with her burly father holding her protectively. The Headmaster came to a stop in front of the families.

"Nooow. Whaat happened?"

"It was like this, sir, my daughter—"

"She called me da a fish! She also said that ma was a $^ - "

"Hush, Ivy!"

"The little heathen tried to bite my Mary's hand off! Then the other one threw a shoe—"

"What did he call Viv?"

"When I got here it looked like she needed help fighting the green giant—"

"I was ATTACKED by the Swede and Ballantine! They lit my head on fire!"

"Hold it there, who are you calling a heathen?"

"Stand back _Conn_, Maeve knows you can't afford a lawsuit with a Gilroy—"

"My father Kennedy can afford to pay you a visit in Scroblach, Gilroy—"

"I'm sorry. I no understand. What did Holly do? Oh no! You didn't use your…you know, did you?"

"It was in self-defense, I swear on me great grandparents graves—"

"—I'd like a word with you outside away from the ladies. I'd hate for them to see your face get rearranged—"

"—She needed help. It was just my shoe this time, I promise I won't do it again—"

The Headmaster didn't flinch. He was still struggling to pull out his charmed hearing aid, an old ram's horn, and had missed the entire conversation. Derry, seeing an opportunity to be the reasonable one, jogged over to the Headmaster and helped him with the hearing aid, whispered a few things into it, called over the Ceann and Ceannaire (Head Boy and Girl), and within a few moments he had finagled Ivy and Holly out of a detention, on the basis that they couldn't properly apply the school rules to them until they were sorted into a house, and the sorting was only minutes away, so if they were going to get it finished with before midnight they had best get started on time and drop this ridiculous business unfolding in the entrance.

One of the professors stepped between the fathers, who looked ready to pummel each other and snapped at them.

"In front of the children! I can't believe your behavior! Please, the sorting is about to begin and I must ask you to say goodbye to your children _immediately_. Can't you men leave the purity conflict alone for five blessed minutes? It's no wonder this country is so torn apart with the way people like you go at it, honestly, it's a disgrace to the Academy…I'll write a letter to the High Counselor about this, mark my words—"

"—And he will side with Gilroy!" snarled Conn.

"As he should!"

Ma, wringing her hands, hugged Ivy to her bosom and kissed her repeatedly on the top of the head.

"Don't kill anyone until you're properly trained dear. I'd better help your father. Oh, and if you need anything, your brother and sisters should have spare parchment and quill and maybe an extra set of robes, and if they don't, send a letter to gran. They promised to send you and your first year cousins a care package. Don't' forget. We _love_ you. Oh my little girl…don't grow up too fast, gra. I'm voting for Misneach for you!" With a sad smile, ma turned away from Ivy and towards her husband. Ivy watched them floo out of the fireplace.

--------

It didn't take long for the news to spread that Ivy had killed a man at the age of ten, Holly could shoot flames out of her eyes, and the Headmaster had a huge crush on Derry and let him get away with anything. Ivy and Holly's fellow first years whispered about these rumors as they were herded into a line and marched into _Breá_ _Bord, _wherethe entire school population was gathered in anticipation.

The room was round and very tall, with massive stained glass windows that let the evening sun fall across the room in a colorful patchwork. There was a head table for the professors and student leaders and many small round tables for students, arranged so that each house occupied roughly a quarter of the circular room in areas marked with their house sign and color. Stone pillars circled the room, with carvings that changed and moved, as if they were still living out the history of Ballynahattin in marble. The dining hall had the feeling of a cathedral.

House pride was not an issue with Bally, judging by the outfits of the students. Ivy spotted Derry and Bernie close to the professor's table. Each of them wore red crowns and were covered from head to toe in ruby red paint. Jessie was with the Crionnas and just as enthusiastically displaying her house colors, though the rest of her house didn't seem as loud about it as Misneach or Trocaire, the house with the golden heart. Seirbhes displayed their colors with a sense of dignity. The girl that attacked Ivy was missing.

A professor arranged the first year students in three rows at the far end of the room, so close to the professors that they were liable to bump a child in the back every time they pulled out a chair. Ivy felt the eyes of the professors on her, and the eyes of the students. The sorting ceremony was very secretive. Although her four older siblings had already gone through it, she hadn't the foggiest idea what it entailed. It felt like she was about to be interrogated.

"Greetings, friends! _Slainte mhor agus a h-uile beannachd duibh_! For those of you who know me, I welcome you back to our fine institution. For those who don't know me, my name is Professor Alastroina and I will be guiding you through the tumultuous worlds of Defensive Magic and Misneach house. I believe the current students all know why I am starting the sorting rather than another of our fine professors—"

There was a lone whoop from Misneach. Professor A, a younger woman with war markings painted on her pleasant face, frowned at the boy. "Save the gloating for after the first match, Greg. Now, as we _all_ remember, it was Misneach house that was furthest in the positive for their house scales. Misneach also claimed the quidditch and aingingein trophies, and one of their students won the overall achievement award for the year. When the planets align, the gods smile kindly on us, and we sweep the school awards in such a way, we also open the student bartering."

"Student bartering?" repeated Ivy to Holly. Holly shrugged.

"Let me repeat the rules. First, a representative from each house must explain what they stand for and what they're looking for before bartering begins. Second, no house may barter for a student until the student has spoken for themselves. Third, any actions which are not permitted in the Ballynahattin Book of Behavior will result in your house being disqualified from the barter. Fourth, professors may override a vote if they feel there's anything underhanded or unwise going on. And, the fourth and most important rule! No food until all the students have been sorted. Do we understand the rules?"

The students roared back, "Yes!"

"Then I would like the Misneach representative to come forward."

Prof. A sat down and a seventh year Misneach boy walked up to the first year students. His hands were folded behind his back. His ruby crown sat jauntily on his bushy red hair.

"Pride!" he said in a ringing voice. "Pride! Pride is why we love Misneach house. We may not be the cleverest, kindest, or most successful students Bally has ever seen, but we take pride in everything we do. We take pride in our fellow Misneachs, in our school, and in our heritage. We're strong. We're fighters. We're dedicated. We believe in justice and we will do anything it takes to make justice a reality. We work hard, and Maeve and the professors know we party hard. We make friends quickly and stay true to them. We only want the best for our house and will do what it takes to get it."

As he spoke he paced back and forth in front of the students, occasionally leaning forward to look them in the eye.

"Call us pushy, but we are the best Ballynahattin has to offer. We want only the best students to be part of our house. Can you be that for Misneach? Oh, and if you have a background in quidditch, aingingein, or dueling, it would be grand if you'd join our team. Winners of the cup four times running, isn't that right boys!"

There were hollers from the Misneach tables.

"Right. So that's why you want to be part of Misneach house."

Next was Trocaire, house of the golden heart, and they identified themselves as the house most concerned with justice, society, and a peaceful world order. The appeal to that house was clear; they seemed like the friendliest bunch, less abrasive than the Misneachs but warmer than the Seribhes and Crionnas. They were people-focused.

After the Trocaire plea came the Seirbhes. They were engaged, clever, and geared toward business, with a clear focus on future careers; the Crionnas were similar to the Seirbhes in terms of intelligence but theirs was a book smart, a love for learning, education, and self-improvement. They called their house the house of "intellectual adventure."

Ivy knew from the moment the Misneach representative came forward that she wanted to be part of that house. She couldn't get into Seirbhe, that would be a living hell if green lips girl was any indication, but Misneach had her brother and sister, and they seemed like the most fun.

The bartering began with a small, dark haired girl that turned out to be Ivy's cousin: Ana Graham. Professor A asked her to tell them her name and a bit about herself.

"Hello, everyone." She waved apprehensively. "Can you hear me? My name is Ana Graham and I—"

"MISNEACH!" shouted the entire room in unison.

Ana blinked and looked around. "I thought I was supposed to say something!"

"Ye did! You're a Graham!" called a voice. "If you're not in Misneach you're in Trocaire!"

"We'll take her!"

"No, we'll take her, she has dueling in her blood!"

"Seirbhe doesn't want her!"

"The Seirbhes are just jealous of our superior breeding!"

"But I don't want to be a Misneach!"

A professor shot yellow sparks into the air, and this cue instantly quieted the students.

"Why don't you want to be in Misneach, dear?" asked Professor A.

"Because I—I think I might like the quiet more than Misneachs do."

"Misneach, your response?"

And so the student bartering continued. The rules were not as simple as Professor A made them out to be. There were many unspoken rules the academy followed, such as giving the professors ample influence into the decision, crowd control, and a debate-like format. The process gave everyone a chance to introduce themselves and form a place for the new students within the school. It was very Irish; so much talking!

By the time they finally came around to Ivy it felt like she had been standing in place for a century, watching more and more students claim the color of their new houses and be ceremoniously welcomed into the fold. Finally, after too much time had passed for the impatient eleven year old, she had the chance to shake the cobwebs off her feet and step forward, and she did so with marked enthusiasm. Each house whispered among themselves; was she a good candidate for them? What did they see in her at that moment?

Ivy grinned and tossed her hair out of her face. She tried to ignore the fact that her knees were knocking together from stage fright.

"Hello, Ballynahattin! It's grand to be here. I'm Ivy Ballantine, Derry and Jessie and Bernie's sister—"

Misneach called out "MISNEACH!"

And Derry added, "Believe me, she'd be a little terror in any other house. We'll take care of her in the Crown."

And so it was that Ivy (Derry's heir), along with Holly (infamous flamethrower of Sweden) and a half dozen other students were sorted into Misneach. A crown was placed upon her head. Her brother picked her up and kissed her. People she didn't know cheered for her. The young girl could not recall ever being happier.

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Her happiness gave way almost immediately to the cold hard reality of Ballynahattin life. It was a small school, and so Irish that it was a detriment to the students that lived there. They knew everyone, the friendships were close, and the societal prejudices they inherited from their parents divided them more neatly than their house emblems ever could. There was a Misneach house; but there was also an Elite Misneach, a Pure Misneach, an Average Misneach, and an Impure Misneach. The divisions became even more complicated when the other houses were added to the equation. Ivy fell into the lowest of low categories outside her own house. She was pureblood traitor vermin to the Seirbhes, a somewhat open minded but stupid and reckless baby to the Crionnas and Trocaires, and even the professors thought her a nuisance because of her unfortunately foolhardy behavior. The truth about Ballynahattin was that it was a purist's school meant only for the upper crust, and the young Ballantine was not upper crust.

Her brother Derry had managed to bypass the prejudices that stood in his way through his good behavior and attractive personality. Jessie fit so well into her house, and her plain face was so non-threatening, that they accepted her well enough. Bernie was a pretty, sociable, likeable girl and therefore a good option for a future wife that none of the pureblood boys were willing to take off the table. But Ivy?

"Hopeless. You are completely and utterly hopeless," declared Professor A as she reprimanded Holly and Ivy yet again for their most recent fiery prank. "You have been a part of this institution for less than three months but you have already managed to earn seven detentions, break into the greenhouses, set loose four golden snitches into the boy's bath, steal two Misneach brooms, and catch fire to…how many is it…? Yes. You have lit at least sixteen Seirbhes on fire. By all accounts you shouldn't be in this school anymore. You have cost the Crown a huge number of points on the scales. You've broken Maeve only knows how many rules. But at the same time you are both getting good grades, and from what I can tell, forming strong enough relationships with your classmates. You're not suicidal or depressed or on a personal vendetta against society. I think."

The corners of Professor A's mouth twitched.

"I do not understand the two of you. At all."

"I'm very sorry Professor and I take full responsibility for our actions," replied Ivy in a glib tone of voice. "I swear I won't do a single thing wrong again as long as you don't tell me da what has happened, because I will never be able to leave home again when he does."

"He'll find out. And you'll get another howler."

"I don't think they can afford to send another one."

"I wouldn't be surprised. Miss Vlammende-Schoen, I must say that I am a little shocked at how well your parents have taken this."

"It's part of my condition. They think that I can't control my fire."

"I see."

"Professor," said Holly, "We thank you for your patience. Ivy and I are adjusting to a new life. We will be careful not to be caught next time."

"It's not our fault all the other students are tattletaling arses!"

The professor laughed and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples to dispel the tension headache that was swiftly forming.

"Girls, I will not always be the leader of this house. I can't guarantee that the next leader will be as patient with you as I have been. You are both very young, and you are both very smart for your age, smarter than I think you give yourselves credit for. Can't you just, I don't know, apply yourselves to something constructive like _homework_? Or maybe even _sports_? Rather than the destruction of Misneach house as we know it?"

Holly and Ivy looked at each other with incredulous looks on their faces. The adult really didn't get it. The two girls were complete outcasts; had they been a bit more popular, maybe they would be accepted into quidditch or dueling in spite of their age. Maybe they'd join a study group. But any possibility for a normal existence had been destroyed as soon as that Seirbhe girl attacked Derry Ballantine's little sister, in an attempt to cause a fight between Misneach and Seirbhe houses. This was a microcosm of Irish politics, not a failure for Holly and Ivy to find a place!

"We will try," said Holly.

"We promise."

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NEXT: It's a surprise!

Thanks for reading! And thanks to Rowling for letting us borrow her world. Please review! I'd love to hear what you think about the story so far. :)


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